


flower boy

by lesbianpatrick



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Angst, Crack, Crack Fic, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Just read, M/M, dont ask, esmerelda the clover needs friends pass it on, fuck what do i even tag, i guess, some of the beginning is cute, yeah theres that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-25
Updated: 2016-08-25
Packaged: 2018-08-10 23:32:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7865764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbianpatrick/pseuds/lesbianpatrick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>He notices something out of place on his upper arm, and when he looks down at it, he sees a flower. Just a small one, with white petals tinted pink at the center, but a flower nonetheless, and one that seems to be growing from <em>him</em>, its stem seemingly coming from under his skin. </em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	flower boy

**Author's Note:**

> hahahahaha its 5 am who needs sleep??? not me!!!!
> 
> good luck with ur crabs @ bekah i hope u like this 
> 
> enjoy!

Patrick first notices it one morning when he’s standing listlessly in front of the mirror (because everyone does that in the morning, right?). He notices something out of place on his upper arm, and when he looks down at it, he sees a flower. Just a small one, with white petals tinted pink at the center, but a flower nonetheless, and one that seems to be growing from _him_ , its stem seemingly coming from under his skin. 

“The hell?” Patrick mutters, afraid to try and pull it for fear of possibly hurting himself. Instead, he just stares at it some more, managing to quell the intense freakout he’s about to have, then decides he’ll just wear a jacket to cover it up. After all, it’s not like this will be an ongoing problem, right?

But it only gets worse from there.

The next day, there’s a pretty purple flower growing out of the top of his head. Patrick would find it rather nice if it wasn’t _attached to him_. Luckily, he can just put a hat over this one, so it’s not really a problem. This still wouldn’t be a problem if it stopped right now.

But they keep coming.

By the time a week has passed since the first bloom appeared, he has a few more flowers on his head, a couple scattered on his arms and legs, what could possibly be a pea plant on his right shoulder, and a vine of some sort wrapped around his left arm.

Patrick wonders if maybe he should be finding this weird, but somehow it doesn’t faze him. He can cover each one of the plants quite easily. Besides, they’re kind of cool. He’s even named a couple. (Esmerelda Lenore Duncan III is the lonely clover flower on his right angle. He hopes a couple friends for her grow there.)

The only con of this is the fact that it’s slightly uncomfortable to cover them up. When he wears clothes over his plants (he knows, instinctually, that they’re _his_ plants now), it’s uncomfortable; it feels similar to falling asleep on your arm. A little numb, and slightly sore. But generally, it’s tolerable.

The first time he tries to pull one off is when a couple tiny yellow flowers sprout on his hands. He’s well aware that the only way to hide these would be to wear gloves. It’s summer, and he’d really like to avoid that. So a solution presents itself: he could just pull them off.

It’s not that simple.

He should have known by the fact it’s uncomfortable to press them down that it would hurt to pull them off. And yet, maybe because he’s too hopeful, he tries anyway.

He yanks off one of the tiny blossoms, and pain shoots through his hand. It feels like someone pulling a clump of his hair. He stares at the tiny bloom that he had detached and now has in his hand and feels like crying. He killed it.

“Fuck.” He whispers.

Patrick never tries to pull one of his plants again.

In the end, he does end up wearing the gloves. He isn’t about to pull of the remaining flowers on his hands, and he has to cover them somehow. Sure, it’s hot and uncomfortable, but it’ll have to do. 

One morning he gets up and realizes he’s grown an honest-to-god flower crown around his head, and in that early morning moment, he can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. It actually looks pretty, when he considers it further. It’s a shame he has to cover it up, really.

All in all, even through the uncomfortable parts, life seems good. He has his natural flower crown, his small pea plant has begun to flower and he’s wondering if it’ll actually give him some peas, and there’s some new clover on his ankle for Esmerelda the lonely clover.

Well, it was all going okay until he had to meet Pete for lunch.

It’s nothing special, just a meet-up. They’re going to some Italian place, and then back to Pete’s to hang out for a bit. That seems okay. Patrick double checks his clothes to make sure none of his plants are peeking out from under them, just in case, and then he’s on his way.

Lunch is nothing of note. The restaurant is nice, the lasagna Patrick ordered is good, and they have some good conversation. 

No, the real problem comes when they go to Pete’s.

Pete’s driving, and he keeps eyeing Patrick in the passenger seat. Eventually, he asks, “Um...no offense, but...do you need to wear all that clothing? It’s summer, you’ve gotta be burning up under there.”

Patrick tenses up and mutters, “I’m fine.”

“Just...” Pete shrugs. “I dunno, gloves and a scarf? Is that really necessary?”

“Yes.” Patrick mumbles, looking out the window. They’re driving past a field, and he sees a lot of clover patches. It reminds him of Esmerelda and her clover friends. He smiles.

Pete sighs, shakes his head, mutters something, and keeps driving.

When they arrive, Patrick gets out first, with Pete following him warily, still seeming confused by Patrick’s apparel. Patrick, for the most part, doesn’t notice.

They sit on the living room floor and just talk, which is nice. This is one of the things Patrick likes about being with Pete; it’s so easy to just talk. It’s refreshing, honestly.

At some point in the conversation (Patrick can’t remember exactly what it was about), Pete takes to staring at Patrick’s head, which is weird, and makes Patrick a little uncomfortable.

“Hello? Earth to Pete!” He waves his (gloved) hand in front of Pete’s face, and Pete startles back to reality.

“Uh.” He begins, clearing his throat awkwardly. “Uh, ‘Trick, you’ve got...a flower growing on you.”

Patrick should really be trying to figure out which one of his plants is visible and denying any knowledge of its existence, but all his sass-fueled mind can do is make him say, “What, just one?”

The room falls into a uncomfortable silence as Patrick mentally slaps himself for being an idiot and Pete stares at him, dumbfounded.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Pete asks slowly, holding Patrick’s gaze.

“I...um...” Patrick tries to say something but his throat is dry. Still, he manages to practically scream, “It doesn’t matter!”

Pete looks affronted. “But-”

“No!” Patrick shakes his head, finding himself backing away. “No, I...fuck, it doesn’t matter!”

“I just want an explanation!” Pete screams back, looking extremely confused. He should be, really.

Patrick shakes his head and tries to stand up, but Pete grabs his hand, right by the wrist, and his fingers slip just a bit below Patrick’s jacket, and Patrick can already see how this could go wrong.

He watches in partial horror, partial amazement as his arm vine grows at an unnatural speed and twines around Pete’s hand. He’s never watched one of his plants grow. It’s fascinating, really.

Pete is watching too, mesmerized by the strangeness of it. But then the vine seems to begin to tighten, and Pete suddenly attempts to yank his arm free, which results in the vine snapping.

Patrick lets loose a scream he didn’t even know he was capable of. If pulling that tiny flower was like yanking a clump of hair, the vine snapping is like his entire head of hair being pulled on at once.

The pain fades quickly, but Patrick finds himself crying anyway, curling up on the floor and sobbing into his knees like a fucking hot mess. Pete looks shocked at first, but then quickly moves to sit next to Patrick, inspecting the place where some of the vine still hangs out of his sleeve, severed at the end.

“Patrick, fuck, I...” Pete takes a deep breath. “What did I do? Are you okay? What’s going on? I’m honestly so confused, I...”

Patrick shakes with another sob, this one knocking his hat off, revealing his little flower crown.

He can feel Pete’s stare, and he feels gross and unnatural under his gaze, like this is supposed to remind him that plants aren’t supposed to grow on people. He sobs again.

He’s vaguely aware that Pete has eased off his gloves and is pulling off his jacket, revealing the scattered plants underneath, dotting his pale skin with patches of color. He’s feeling so down right now, he’s half ready for Pete to insult him. He probably deserves it, he thinks.

But instead, Pete just whispers, voice hushed, “Fuck, you’re so pretty, ‘Trick.”

Patrick turns to meet his eyes, blinking out his tears. He frowns and says, “You...really?”

Pete nods, eyes wide in amazement. “Shit, I...look at all this! Really! This is amazing! You’re amazing!”

Patrick’s eyes widen. “It is?”

“Yeah!” Pete nods enthusiastically now. Then he notices the broken arm vine, and his smile falls. “Shit, I snapped your vine didn’t I?”

Patrick drops his gaze to the floor and mutters, “Yes...”

Pete wraps his arms around Patrick and holds him close, and Patrick notes how he manages to completely avoid all of Patrick’s plants while hugging him. It’s sweet, really.

“That hurts you?” Pete asks slowly. Patrick can only nod. Pete nods back. “Well then, I promise I won’t snap any of your plants again, okay?”

Patrick nods, and wraps his arms around Pete in return, so they’re just clinging to each other. It’s comforting, and a little freeing for Patrick, to be able to just sit here in each others’ arms.

“You’re okay.” Pete promises. “I love you, and I love all your little plants, and I am so fucking sorry I hurt you, I didn’t know.”

Patrick nods again, managing to break his sobs long enough to mutter, “It’s okay.”

Pete just holds him tighter and whispers into his ear, “You’re okay, okay?”

Patrick nods against Pete’s shoulder. From this angle, he can see a new group of the small yellow flowers, the ones he once pulled one of, growing on his arm. It makes him smile.

Pete’s right. It really is pretty.

**Author's Note:**

> as usual, if you want to send me prompts for this AU, go ahead!
> 
> hmu on tumblr- vicesandvelociraptors 
> 
> hopefully ill have time to write it haha
> 
> thanks!


End file.
